


The Kind I'd Like to Flaunt

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Eggsy's got it bad, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Harry in Drag, Humor, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Those two were unintentional, consensual voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8456155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: Harry talked strictly business on the taxi ride to the gallery, going over emergency exits for the venue and conversation topics for the mark, meaning Eggsy managed to keep focused on the task at hand rather than the slide of dark silk over Harry's stockinged thigh. That is until they went through the additional kit Merlin had given Harry along with his alias, and he'd said briskly - "if you do have to kiss me for some reason Eggsy, then please not on the mouth, the lipstick is infused with a sedative and I'd really rather not have to scrape you off the floor in this dress," which of course made Eggsy want to do nothing more than see just how much he could mess up that sodding lipstick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know there’s several Eggsy in drag fics (which I am 500% here for) but I wanted some drag Harry too. I apologise for this mess - It's been lingering around on my computer for months, so if I don't post it now I never will.
> 
> _I am such a drag queen. It's one of my primary driving forces in life. You cannot dangle a spandex suit and a little bit of mascara in front of me, and not just have me go weak at the knees._ \- Colin Firth.
> 
> (Alas there is no spandex, but it was too good an opportunity not to use the quote.)

Ever since he'd officially been knighted a Kingsman (Gawain at your service, ta very much) Eggsy had been wondering when his first real undercover, serious business, secret disguise gig was going to be. Admittedly, all the agents had a handy list of aliases and code-names, and even on his very first unofficial mission, Eggsy had assumed the identity of the head of the organisation for fuck's sake. But in most cases, the false identity of a Kingsman would be a few fake documents and a suit cut slightly differently to their usual preferences. Despite Merlin's constant assurances that being a spy wasn't at all like how it was in the movies, Eggsy was holding out for something spectacular, Oscar-winning - he was talking wigs, prosthetics, tragic backstories, a fucking supporting cast, whatever. But apparently, missions where such extreme disguise was necessary really didn't come up all that often. And when one finally did, Eggsy was only mildly irritated that it was given to Harry. 

From what Eggsy had managed to overhear or wheedle out of various Kingsman employees, Arthur really hadn't had much choice but to give that mission in particular to Harry. The mark was some bloke who was big in business, total fraudster by the name of Lawrence, embezzling millions out of whoever was stupid enough to do business with him and scarpering before they could prove he was the culprit. He also just happened to enjoy spending his downtime relaxing with older ladies who knew how to dish out the discipline. And by ladies, he meant blokes who could work a dress and heels, knew their way around a pair of handcuffs, and who weren't too afraid of pulling their punches. For starters, the age thing ruled out Eggsy and Rox and the other newly minted knights like Geraint and Tristan. Some of the others didn't have the right physique - Bors was a top bloke, but in the wrong lighting strongly resembled a silverback gorilla. According to the gossip mill that was the tech department, Percival was good at the discipline thing but bad in high heels, and Lamorak the other way around. Who knew. 

It wasn't that Eggsy doubted Harry's abilities, because of fucking course not, the man was a Kingsman legend and hot as fuck to boot, but he was having a hard time picturing it coming off as anything other than a bit panto dame. Course it was none of his fucking business, so he tried not to think about it too much and got on with his own work. But since Harry'd come back from Kentucky, he'd had an even harder job than usual pushing anything Harry-related out of his head, and Harry on a potential honeypot was hardly going to be his first success as far as that was concerned. Once or twice in the week leading up to it, when the two of them were having a cuppa in Harry's office or whatever, Eggsy'd thought about bringing it up, but he couldn't find the right words, and _'hey Harry can you really rock a dress as well as everyone says you can because I just can't picture it PS I love you please shag me over your desk,'_ didn't quite cut it. 

He'd even dared approach Merlin on the subject - the drag thing, not the shag thing - when he was three hundred miles away and in contact with him only over the comms, to save himself the inevitable smack with Merlin's clipboard for asking stupid questions.

"Merlin?"

"Mm?"

"Arthur's really sending Harry on this BDSM drag thing?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno, just... can Harry really pull that off? He's such a..." Eggsy struggled to find the words as he took aim at his mark through the sniper lens, "gentleman."

Instead of the reprimand to mind his own fucking business and get on with his job and stop interfering with other people's, he received a low laugh over the mic. "You'll see."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not saying anything else. But you're in for a treat lad, that much is certain. Now shut up and take the fucking shot before he wanders off."

 

~

 

It was the evening Harry was scheduled to go and make contact with the mark at some club he was often spotted at, and Eggsy hadn't seen him all day. Not that it was unusual, they were busy blokes, and the past few days in particular had been a bureaucratic nightmare following a slight change of plan involving a small explosion during Eggsy's last mission in Dubai. Would've been nice to see him off though - it was something they did when they were able, even if it was only a local thing and they'd probably catch up again in a few hours time. He didn't even look at the clock when he left, all he knew was that it was almost dark, he'd been staring at his computer screen so long it felt like his eyes were going to fall out, and it was time to call it a day. He was about to step on to the shuttle to head back to the shop, finding something to listen to on his phone to pass the time, when someone called to him to hold it. Being the upstanding citizen he was, Eggsy pulled his headphones out and did so, and turned to greet whoever he was holding the door for.

A woman he didn't recognise was walking briskly towards him. Her heels clicked smartly along the corridor, causing Eggsy to run his eye appreciatively up her longs legs - shit, she had a foot on him, easily - and up to her face. She must have been in her forties at least, and pretty fucking easy on the eye. Dressed in a way both understated and a tiny bit naughty, a little black dress with a cheeky bit of lace that showed off her fucking offensively good legs, elegant hands hidden by satiny gloves, and patent heels so shiny he could have seen his reflection in them, she was all in all drop dead fucking gorgeous. Eggsy was still sort of gaping at her and unable to think anything much other _who the hell is this goddess,_ when she brushed past him to climb into the shuttle and take a seat. In doing so she crossed her legs, the slit in the side of her dress widening and revealing a flash of garter, and Eggsy lost the ability to speak for a minute. 

Admittedly he did have a bit of a thing for older blokes, made painfully clear after his months of lusting after Harry, but he usually preferred girls about his own age and - _hang on a fucking minute._ Harry... _No. Fucking. Way._ Before his brain had the time to fully grasp exactly what it was he thought was going on here, the woman looked up at him with warm brown eyes from under her immaculate hair, parted her perfectly painted red lips, and said - "thank you, Eggsy." 

Yep. Definitely Harry. He'd know his voice anywhere, the amount of time he'd spent hanging on to his every word or imagining it in his ear in the shower. Eggsy just about melted into the floor because fucked if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever borne witness to. Apparently Harry in drag wasn't nearly so funny in reality as it had been in his head - it was about twelve different things in fact, and none of them were funny. "You're welcome." His voice did that embarrassing little wavering jump in register that it hadn't done since he was fourteen, and Harry smirked at him.

"Are you getting in, or not?" he drawled in that round-vowled way posh people had a tendency to, that Eggsy felt may have been put on more than usual for his benefit, "I have somewhere to be, after all."

"Yeah," Eggsy looked down at his trainers in an attempt to gather his wits before clambering in to the shuttle to take the seat opposite. Which he had rather mixed feelings about, because on the plus side, he got to look at Harry, but on the downside, _he had to look at Harry._ No way was he coming out of this dignity intact. He felt just as caught off guard as the day he'd met Harry properly, sitting across from him in the pub after having watched the apparently harmless bloke take out Dean's dogs one after the other.

"So you um - you do this often, or...?" He winced at how stupid that sounded, and let rest of the sentence trail off. 

"No," Harry smoothed his hands over his already neat skirt. "I only do it for work, with the very, very occasional exception," he said with an arched eyebrow and a significant look Eggsy tried not to read too far into. "But when the opportunity arises, I won't pretend I don't enjoy it."

"Oh?" Eggsy choked out.

"Mm. The methodical process of transforming into someone else bit by bit, stepping into the role, as it were. I find it quite therapeutic."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. And," he continued, "you have to admit it's a little more adventurous than most of my aliases."

"Got that right."

"I've been told it rather suits me," Harry said in that smug but carefully light tone that Eggsy hadn't yet mastered, gentleman code for 'I look bloody fantastic and I know it.' 

"I - " Eggsy sputtered. "No argument from me there bruv. You're gorgeous." Harry visibly preened at the compliment, and Eggsy couldn't help but wonder if he'd purposely timed it so that he'd meet Eggsy in the corridor on his way home, just to witness his reaction. Wouldn't put it past him, the theatrical bastard.

They fell into silence, and Eggsy's eye once again travelled up the long lines of Harry's neatly crossed legs, going from the offensively shiny heels - which of fucking course he still had perfect balance in, the smooth fucker - to slim calves given a slight, dark sheen by the stockings, to leanly muscled thighs disappearing under the tidy line of black lace. Jesus fuck, what was he wearing underneath it? There was no way for Eggsy to know, but suddenly finding out seemed like the most important thing in the world. Unfortunately, they arrived at the shop before he could get much further along that line of thinking.

"Goodnight, Eggsy," Harry said absently as he rifled through a neat black clutch - he had a fucking _handbag,_ Jesus - checking off his arsenal no doubt.

"Yeah," Eggsy looked up from Harry's clever fingers as he snapped the bag shut. "Night Harry. Good luck, yeah?"

"My dear boy, I shall need no such thing." Harry smirked at him and unfolded himself from the seat, stalking off into the shop before Eggsy could manage to dredge up a response. Which was probably for the best, considering the thought at the front of his mind just then was how much he'd probably enjoy sinking his teeth into Harry's lace-covered backside.

If he hadn't already been completely fucked over in love with Harry Hart, that shuttle ride might have been the thing to tip him over. As it was, all he got out of it was a stiffy and a renewed sense of determination. 

 

~

 

As it turned out, Harry needn't have bothered going all out to catch the eye of the Lawrence bloke that first night - the intel was bad and he hadn't even been at the club. But it was for the best, as while they regrouped to come up with another way to get at him, Merlin managed to dig up a little more info. Enough to know that he would be attending the opening night of an exhibition at an art gallery next week, and he'd have an entourage of at least fifteen discreetly watching over him and all packing heat. Seemed like a bit much for a fucking fancy-arse evening do to Eggsy, but there you go. Either way, it was a big enough number when they still knew so little about their mark that it wasn't unreasonable for Eggsy to request he attend too, as back up, and have Merlin agree. And if it was a little less about the mark and a little more about getting to see Harry all dressed up again close and personal like, that was nobody's business but his. And whatever poor handlers had to take them through it.

On entering the gallery, it turned out only four of the potential fifteen bodyguards were actually present. Which was good, because yeah Eggsy was a professional and all, but Harry was _really fucking distracting._ He'd stalked out of the shop to meet Eggsy by the taxi earlier on, elegant as fuck in a long dark blue gown - complete with slit up the side to show a bit of leg when he walked, the git - taller than him by _fucking miles_ in yet another pair of heels that he was irritatingly well-balanced in. It'd been hard to keep his tongue from actually lolling out of his mouth like it did in cartoons, or when JB was eyeing up his sandwich. Luckily for him, Harry talked strictly business on the taxi ride to the gallery, going over emergency exits for the venue and conversation topics for the mark, meaning Eggsy managed to keep focused on the task at hand rather than the slide of dark silk over Harry's stockinged thigh. That is until they went through the additional kit Merlin had given Harry along with his alias, and he'd said briskly - "if you do have to kiss me for some reason Eggsy, then please not on the mouth, the lipstick is infused with a sedative and I'd really rather not have to scrape you off the floor in this dress," which of course made Eggsy want to do nothing more than see just how much he could mess up that sodding lipstick.

But now they were at the party, it was a little harder for Eggsy to keep himself in check. If anyone asked later, he'd claim he was just playing up the role, y'know, as though he was looking absolutely fucking besotted so purpose. He couldn't help but let a little bit of the smugness show on his face when other guests glanced their way - some scandalised and some appreciative - and unsurprisingly, Harry noticed.

"You seem awfully pleased with yourself," Harry said out of the corner of his mouth.

"That's because I got the prettiest girl in the room on my arm, yeah?" he said as he snagged them both some Champagne from a passing waiter. The most beautiful and most deadly thing in the world would have been more accurate, but he didn't say it out loud at risk of being overheard.

He could see Harry trying to fight the self-satisfied little smile that pulled at his lips - painted a rich, deep red for the occasion - but ultimately it won. "Is that so?"

Eggsy snorted softly into his champagne flute. "You know it is."

"Well, I suppose," said Harry glibly, tossing his head a little to move the hair of his perfectly styled - naturally - wig from his eyes.

What followed was - in the best words Eggsy could think of to describe it - an evening of playing flirt chicken, in between keeping an eye on their embezzler. He could have put it down to the pair of them staying in character, but, on his side at least, it was more his own feelings than those of his assumed role coming to the surface. Fortunately for him, their interests were similar. He'd put his hand to the small of Harry's back to guide him over to the buffet table, and Harry'd gently patted his arse cheek in thanks. Eggsy'd clocked a bird lurking by an ugly as fuck cubist painting eyeing Harry up, and leant over to brush a barely there kiss just below Harry's ear, a possessiveness he'd expected but still not been prepared for riling him up. In retaliation, Harry had touched the very tips of his fingers to Eggsy's chin, gently tilting it up to look into his eyes, before telling him he had a blob of something from the canapes still stuck to his lip. 

At some point, Harry did unfortunately have to break away to make contact with the mark, and Eggsy was left skulking between the paintings, trying to keep an eye on Harry without looking like he was. Mr Big Fraudster seemed very happy indeed to make Harry's acquaintance, all smiles and thinly-veiled innuendo as the two of them swapped cards, and when his hand rested a moment too long on the crook of Harry's elbow, Eggsy couldn't help but step in. It's what his alias would've done, right?

"There you are darling," Eggsy said as he slipped an arm around Harry's trim waist, "I thought I'd lost you." He felt Harry tense in surprise, but it didn't show on his face. "And who might this gentleman be?" He looked expectantly to Mr Whatever the Fuck His Name Was, his fingers curling possessively at Harry's hip as their eyes met. 

"This is Mr Lawrence, my dear," Harry said smoothly. "Some of the pieces here tonight are very generously on loan from his private collection. Mr Lawrence, this is Edward, my companion for the evening."

"Pleasure to meet you Edward," Mr Lawrence said as they shook hands, just as much of a smarmy looking git in real life as he was in the file, "you're very lucky to have such a lady on your arm." 

"I certainly am," said Eggsy, giving Harry a smile that was half infatuated idiot, half lust. Regrettably, neither took much faking. 

They made a little more small talk for a while, Eggsy making sure his glasses stayed fixed on Mr Lawrence as best they could to pick up anything more that might be useful, before they parted ways. Not before he'd shot Harry one last salacious look and kissed his hand like he already owned him. That one little action pissed Eggsy off more than any other the entire evening - that that total berk got to touch Harry like that and Eggsy wasn't allowed. Not unless they were working anyway, if that's what you could call their messed up dancing around each other all evening.

Fuck it, he thought as they collected their coats, now or never. 

"Harry?" The two of them were standing outside the gallery, waiting for their cab to pull up and take them back to the shop, close together but not touching.

"Yes?" 

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you for - well, fucking ages, actually," he hunched in on himself a little against the chill of the night and the steady gaze Harry was levelling him with. 

"Is that so," he offered him a small smile, encouraging in all things Eggsy did, even this, for fuck's sake.

"Yeah, I - I really want to shag you," Eggsy blurted. "And it's not just 'cos of the dress and shit, I swear, although I don't think I've ever seen you look more fucking sexy than you do right now. But that ain't - shit, I wasn't meant to start with that," _fuck,_ this was turning into an utter shitshow, "look Harry, I really like you, yeah? I reckon you know that. And after tonight and all the other stuff we - I'm pretty sure that you - "

"Eggsy," said Harry evenly, face clear of any emotion that might give away what he was about to say, and oh fuck here comes the rejection... "as dreadfully romantic as this speech of yours is rapidly becoming, the taxi's here, and I have a question of my own before we get in."

"Yeah?"

"Would you do me the honour of accompanying me home this evening?"

 

~

 

"Harry?"

"Yes darling?" Eggsy shifted at the unexpected thrill that skittered up his spine at the smooth purr of the endearment on Harry's lips.

"How long are you just gunna sit there for?"

"Oh I really don't think you're in much of a position to be asking the questions, do you?"

_"Fuckin' hell."_

"Filthy mouth," Harry admonished, though honestly he didn't sound all that upset about it.

He was sitting in a chair in the corner of his bedroom - a pretty fucking ugly chair to be honest, though now really wasn't the time for Eggsy to start mouthing off about Harry's taste in interiors again - still dressed up in all his finery from the gallery, sipping at the martini resting lightly between his gloved fingers. Eggsy on the other hand, was stripped to nothing but a smile, standing in front of Harry on the bedroom carpet and awaiting his next request.

"Kneel on the bed for me."

Eggsy did so, a little awkward as he felt Harry's eyes tracking his every movement, every shift and stretch as he positioned himself for Harry's viewing pleasure. After a moment's shuffling, he was kneeling up on the squashy red duvet of Harry's bed, arms a bit stiff at his side and jaw tense, his cock half hard under Harry's scrutiny. The exposure of his body made his face hot, but his blood rush faster and his pulse tick in expectation, feeling ravished by Harry's roving eyes alone, both hungry and edible himself.

"Lovely," Harry said once Eggsy was settled. He sipped daintily at the the martini, his lipstick clinging to the rim of the glass in a way so oddly fascinating that Eggsy's attention lingered on it for a moment after Harry moved it from his lips. "And you know what to say if you wish me to stop?" he said after he'd swallowed.

"Yes."

"Very good. We'll start with something easy," he said. "Play with your nipples for me."

Eggsy did as Harry told him, feeling a bit of a twat for all of two seconds, before the familiar pleasure of the touch took over, tingling and slightly ticklish, that made his cock start to ache with the beginnings of something more serious. Harry's eyes languidly following the twisting of his fingers made the sensation all the sharper.

"Like this?" he scratched lightly across his chest, drawing a blunt nail over his nipple, his eyes locked with Harry's as he tried not to jolt at the sensation. As tempting as the thought was, he didn't want to completely go to pieces so early on, wanted to give himself the satisfaction of putting on a good show, and of doing well for Harry. 

"Excellent. Good boy."

"Oh... _fuck,_ Harry." In hindsight, after all he and Harry had been through, he should have bloody guessed that praise from his mentor would somehow feel ten times better in the bedroom than it did in the field. Even when it had been bestowed on him in a purely innocent sense, it had made him feel more elated than he'd expected, and that was nothing compared to this.

"I wondered if you might enjoy that," Harry settled further back into the awful chair, the picture of composure, the git. "Now, stroke your cock for me, lovely boy."

Eggsy did so, thinking back on every time he'd flung together some similar fantasy while guiltily whacking off in the shower, and how this was so much better than that. It was an odd sort of two way worship - Eggsy offering his body, doing as he was bid at Harry's command, Harry in turn revelling in Eggsy's beauty, offering up praise for his body and his heart.

"Harry," he said, his voice breathy and wavering and _fuck not yet -_

"Stop," Harry said, "hands off." 

He'd done as Harry had asked before the command had even really registered, arms heavy at his sides and feeling a little dazed.

"Very good. Now. Open yourself up."

"I - " Eggsy blinked at him, arse tensing reflexively as the words sank in. "Shit. Yeah."

"Everything you'll need is in the drawer to the left," Harry said, just as Eggsy was about to ask where he kept the lube.

He nodded, and slid the drawer open, scrabbling about in it's contents until his hand closed around the tube. For the next few moments, he operated in a sort of detached disbelief that it was all actually happening, as he covered his fingers in the stuff and started to prod at himself, one hand on the bed to for balance as he leant forwards for a better angle. He was a little less tentative about it than he might have been if he were alone, in his haste both to please Harry and to get himself off. 

"Slow down my darling," said Harry gently, "I'll not have you hurting yourself." Then, in the sort of voice that made it clear he was smirking, even though Eggsy's eyes were scrunched shut, "and at my age, I've found there's rather a lot to be said for delayed gratification."

"God," Eggsy hissed, clenching hard around his finger and looking up to glare at Harry, "do you get these lines out of some fucked up handbook?" He tried to even out his breathing and relax as he worked in another finger, left hand digging hard into the mattress. "Do they like give it to you as a pressie when you've been a Kingsman for ten years or some shit?"

"Not quite," Harry said, "although in some ways you're surprisingly close to the mark - I did give the previous Lancelot a copy of _The Kamasutra_ as a congratulations for making it ten years."

"You're all fucking mental."

"It's been said. Now, lean a little further forward for me... lovely. That angle should be better for you." Eggsy parted his knees further and his finger slid a fraction deeper, though he tried to keep the jolt of pleasure at the touch from showing on his face, biting hard at his lip. "You have an exquisite chest, you know," said Harry conversationally, as though they were in the sodding shuttle on the way to work and chatting about the weather, "I shall very much enjoy leaving my mark on it, sometime, bite and suck at your lovely skin until your nipples are pink and swollen, and you won't be able to dress properly without thinking of me."

"Jesus Christ..." Eggsy pulled himself upright again, still kneeling with his legs spread wide enough to keep working on his arse, but freeing up his other hand to take hold of his cock. He couldn't help the hitching sigh that fell from his lips as he did so, the hand on his hot soft skin, half expecting Harry to tell him off for doing so without his permission.

"How often do you do this to yourself, I wonder," Harry said, with an air of performance that made it obvious he didn't expect an answer. Not that Eggsy could have given him one, busy as he was. "Only when you really need it perhaps? If you've had a bad day and want to give yourself a treat. Perhaps you feel guilty about it, touching yourself so intimately... does it embarrass you, I wonder?" He laughed softly, like there was some little joke in there only he was privy to. "No, somehow I think not. Do you do it often then, open yourself up? You seem to be taking to it rather easily. Wet and gagging for something, someone else to fill you up, your own fingers teasing, but never quite as good as a cock. Look at you, tart, pink-cheeked and innocent looking even with three fingers up your pretty arse."

Eggsy tried to say something, but all that came out was a pretty fucking embarrassing sort of whine. He'd never been called a tart before in his life, nor had he ever expected to be, but it made his belly drop and his cock twitch in his grasp, his face even hotter knowing that the words had come from Harry, watching him still. He shut his eyes for a moment of respite from Harry's steady gaze, hanging his head when it suddenly became too much effort to hold it up.

"Look at me," Harry's voice was still clear and even, and Eggsy would have to ask how the fuck he did that because he could barely remember how to put a sentence together in such a state.

"Ughh," he groaned again and lifted his head, eyes still half closed in a steadily building bliss as he looked across to the chair.

"That's it. Divine." Harry shifted in his seat, legs crossing at a slightly different angle, making the slit in the dress fall open a little higher up his thigh, and once more Eggsy found himself longing to find out what was under all that fucking clingy silk and lace, or at the very least to ride Harry's thigh until he lost control and came all over it.

"Steady, darling," Harry purred, and Eggsy belatedly realised he'd sped up his movements with the thought of his come on Harry's stockings and skin of his inner thighs, "if you come before I say you can, I shall be most displeased."

_"Bollocks."_

"Language. And if you're finding it hard to cope with what I do for good boys, I don't think you'll fare well when you discover how I treat naughty ones."

"Oh fuck me, _seriously_ Harry?" he whined, cock jumping in his grip.

"Ask me nicely if you can come Eggsy, and I might be persuaded to let you."

"Ughh, God. Please?"

"Please what?"

"You bastard," Eggsy squeezed his eyes shut in a Herculean effort not to come without Harry's permission, of all the sodding... _"please_ Harry, may I come?"

A heartbeat as Harry pretended to consider, all sound gone from the room, a thick anticipatory silence thrumming in Eggsy's ears. "Yes."

Before that moment, Eggsy would have laughed in the face of anyone who said it was possible to come on command. He was thoroughly converted though, when the moment the affirmation left Harry's lips the pressure reached it's peak, hand relentless on his cock as he stoked himself through it, arse tight around his fingers as he came all over himself.  
Breathing hard, he let go of his cock to brace himself on the bed, slowly withdrawing his other hand from his arse, feeling distantly guilty about the lube and come smeared all over Harry's no doubt obnoxiously expensive bedding. His arse was throbbing, easing into the pleasant ache that came after a good and proper wank, the come on his stomach warm and tacky. He heard a rustle from across the room and looked up groggily to see Harry stand, smoothing the wrinkles from his skirt before slinking over to stand in front of him. He pulled off one of his gloves, finger by finger, dropping it to the floor before running his index finger firmly though the mess on Eggsy's skin, raising it up to slide between his own painted lips. 

"Well done." His voice was rough, Eggsy was pleased to note.

"Thanks."

They watched each other for a few long seconds. Eggsy was unsure what to do next - he was still winded from a fucking brilliant orgasm, his head not quite on straight. Normally after sleeping with someone, he'd want to pull them close, kiss them once more before they fell asleep tangled up and overheated. But this wasn't normally, this was Harry. And they hadn't kissed at all, never mind _once more._ Which was not okay, in Eggsy's books.

"Harry?"

"Yes, dear boy?"

"Could I - " it was fucking ridiculous to be so hesitant after what they'd just done, but there was no way he could think of to say what he wanted without it sounding pathetic. "Would you kiss me? Please?"

Harry didn't say a word. He sat on the bed, cool silk of his dress brushing Eggsy's thigh as he lifted his bare hand to rest on the side of Eggsy's face. Ducking his head a little, he nosed softly along Eggsy's jaw and up his cheek, breath hot against his skin, before tilting his face just so, and bringing their lips together. It was exactly what Eggsy needed, something gentle and personal, to temper the heat and desperation, the waiting and wondering. 

"Bit fucked up we didn't do that bit first, innit," he said when they broke apart, half crawled into Harry's lap with his hand still on his face.

"Perhaps," Harry said, still somehow looking proper even with lipstick smeared on his chin. "But if I'd kissed you first, I'm not certain we'd have been able to stop. And I so wanted to give you what you asked me for."

"Thank you," Eggsy said, and kissed him again despite the certainty that there was just as much lipstick on his face as Harry's by now. "It was... you were fucking _on point._ And we'll have time for all the other stuff later too, yeah? Like dates and all that?"

"Of course," said Harry, as though it were offensive to even consider otherwise. "I fully intend to do this properly, Eggsy."

"Good. Because I want to fucking flaunt you to anyone and everyone, Harry Hart. I want 'em all to know you're mine."

"I think it's too late for me to be anything else," Harry said. "You're utterly enchanting."

"Yeah well," Eggsy dipped his chin to hide the flush Harry's blunt compliments drew up to his face, "you don't scrub up too bad neither."

"Thank you," said Harry dryly, his hand stroking down the side of Eggsy's face once more before he pulled away. "Now. You know where the bathroom is," he stood, before sauntering into the little dressing room opposite the en suite, "get yourself cleaned up. And then, if you'd be so kind, I could do with some help getting undressed."

Unfortunately, Eggsy didn't make it to the bathroom and missed out on helping Harry get undressed that night - they'd forgotten about the sedative in the lipstick.

**Author's Note:**

> I first watched Kingsman roughly a year ago - I was hungover af after a Halloween party - so consider this an 'I've been in this glorious trash heap for a year now and it's been fantastic' celebratory fic.


End file.
